When I was a child I had what you would call a active imagination, I spent a lot of time alone, and this is how I would fill that loneliness. By creating scenarios and artificial worlds in my mind. I would invent friends and imagine myself in times long ago, or far in the future.
Throughout my school years, I was not what you would call a “cool kid”, in fact I didn’t make friends very easily. I began drawing and writing poems, this is how I filled that emptiness. But before to long I found other things that took me places beyond the reach of my voids, transporting me far from the reaches of the hurt and anger.
As a young man, I found myself in circumstances that I would not walk away from for some time, circumstances that were wrought with danger, and uncertainty. I spent much of this time alone, nestled securely in a book, reading in the hopes of finding solace. It’s amazing the transformative power of the written word, and how by taking part in the adventures of others through their written experiences the reader can shape their own perspectives of what those stories meant to them.
Today, I am a much different person than I was, when I was a child, or an adolescent, or a young(er) man. But one thing that has always followed me is my unending hunger for a good story, an exciting adventure, and an imagined world, and also how these have chased my blues away. Cobalt.
